


Healing hands

by liars_dance



Series: Brothers of Gondor [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-26
Updated: 2011-06-26
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:04:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liars_dance/pseuds/liars_dance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aragorn visits Faramir in the Houses of Healing to check on his recovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing hands

It isn't long before Aragorn returns to the Houses of Healing - to the room where he had first met Faramir as a man.

"So, Faramir," Aragon grasps the younger man's shoulders and embraces him warmly. "How goes your recovery?"

"Well, I believe," Faramir replies. "I am eating and drinking and sleeping - and I am even walking outside when the Warden of the House permits it!" He pauses. "It is good to see you, my lord - I have often thought of our meeting."

Aragorn swallows with difficulty as once again, he is struck by the likeness of the young Steward to his older brother - that same look in those warm expressive eyes. "Tell me of what you have thought," he asks softly.

Faramir steps away from Aragorn and walks to the window to look out over the land.

"That I have been waiting for your return. That when I look at you, I have feelings that perhaps I should not have - for my King. That perhaps I am imagining what I see in your eyes when you look at me."

"Faramir, look at me," Aragorn says softly. "You have imagined nothing. But I think there is something else that you are not telling me."

Faramir turns slowly and raises his eyes to meet Aragorn's.

"I wonder with whom you are standing in this room. Is it a memory or myself? My lord, do you see my brother when you look at me?"

Aragorn stands and crosses the room to where Faramir is standing. He takes one of Faramir's hands in his.

"It is true that I found your likeness to Boromir unnerving." Aragorn breathes in deeply and continues. "It is also true that I loved your brother as perhaps you know. And like you, I would wish that he had not fallen, but in coming here I am not seeking to replace that which is lost." Aragorn strokes the back of his fingers down Faramir's cheek. "I want you, Faramir - but not because I cannot have Boromir. I want _you._ I need you, Faramir - for who you are, for yourself and I need you for me - for I believe you to be my salvation."

"My brother..." Faramir says quietly, "Boromir - did he love you?"

"I believe he did - we did not speak the words - to my regret."

"I too believe that he did," Faramir replies softly. "I cannot imagine that he could have looked upon you as I am doing now and not loved you."

Aragorn sighs and leans forward to place his mouth on Faramir's, moving his lips softly, licking gently at Faramir's full bottom lip. He feels desire grow in his belly as Faramir's lips part, and he pulls the younger man towards him, deepening the kiss, his hands moving down Faramir's back.

"Faramir," Aragorn moans softly, his lips tracing down Faramir's neck to suck and bite.

Faramir gasps in panic as Aragorn suddenly drops to his knees, his hands beginning to unfasten the ties of his breeches. "No, my lord - you must not... you must not kneel before me, please - it is not right," he urges, his hands on Aragorn's stilling their movement.

Aragorn looks up. "If you do not wish me to kneel, my Steward, then you must lie down - it is your choice. You must allow me to touch you, to taste you - I need it.. your King commands it." Aragorn kisses the hands that cover his own and hears Faramir's sudden intake of breath. He looks up into eyes suddenly darkened with desire and feels the swelling hardness under his hands.

"Faramir," he whispers softly. "Faramir," he repeats, brushing his lips back and forth over his Steward's shaking hands, his own hands pressing more firmly, his fingers stroking through the material of Faramir's breeches. Faramir's hands fall away on a sigh and Aragorn whispers his name almost reverently as he opens the fastenings to nuzzle the warm hard flesh with his open mouth. "Ah, Faramir," he murmurs, drifting his tongue up Faramir's cock, "so sweet, so warm, so hard, so - wanting."

"Do you repeat my name, lord, lest you forget whose flesh is in your hands, upon your lips?" Faramir moans softly.

Aragorn shakes his head. Looking up he trails his hands up Faramir's thighs and then around his buttocks, pulling his hips forward and his cock into his mouth. Aragorn sucks gently, his tongue moving slowly around the swollen head, and then he pulls back to look up at Faramir's near desperate face.

"I am sorry - I did not mean.. please, my lord - please," Faramir whispers as Aragorn licks his lips and smiles, stroking Faramir's cock gently with warm, callused fingers.

"I know where I am and with whom," Aragorn murmurs softly, running his other hand up Faramir's shaking thigh. Faramir nods, biting his lip. "You are trembling - so close to release... I can feel it. Hold my head, Faramir," Aragorn murmurs, "let yourself go."

Faramir gasps and almost stumbles as he feels Aragorn's warm mouth surround his cock once more. Moaning, he grasps first Aragorn's shoulders and then his head as he suddenly can no longer help thrusting forward as Aragorn sucks him deeper into his mouth, the movements of his lips and tongue faster now and... Faramir's body stiffens suddenly, his hips locked as he spills his seed almost helplessly, in warm and endless spasms into the mouth of his King.

"Ah..." Faramir groans out loud, stepping back, stumbling and shaking as he tries in vain to keep his footing and pull up his breeches. "Oh... My lord, I am - I am..." Faramir's eyes are bright and wet with tears as he looks at Aragorn, still kneeling on the floor, his lips shining and moist. "Please - I am...

"Ready to lie down, I think," Aragorn says with a smile, standing quickly and steadying Faramir in his arms. "And not yet fully healed," he murmurs, encouraging Faramir to lie down on his bed. As on the other day, Aragorn places a hand on Faramir's brow and takes his hand in his own, but this time it is he who kisses his Steward's hand.

Faramir's eyes soften and his pupils dilate as Aragorn looks down at him. "It is true what Ioreth and Bergil say, my Lord - yours are healing hands."

Aragorn smiles and squeezes his hand. "I will return again soon, Faramir - rest now ... Rest and heal." He kisses Faramir softly on the mouth.

"I pledge myself to you, my lord," Faramir whispers. "I wish only to serve you."

"I know.." replies Aragorn, his eyes roaming that suddenly oh-so familiar face. "I am relying on it."


End file.
